


"Few Have Seen It"

by farad



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:14:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/farad/pseuds/farad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for Bingo 3 - Indians, ghosts, and drought</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Few Have Seen It"

**Author's Note:**

> The awesome Randi created Bingo cards for us for the past several years; last year I was slack and didn't get as much done as I wanted to. This year, we did two different 'prompt' structures, the 'words' and more details prompts. I took one each of the cards from this year, and coupled those two prompts with my bingo prompts from last year. This is the result for the combined prompts of all three cards for the square at the top row, fifth position: 
> 
> regular card: Drought  
> Prompty prompt: E7: Ezra, he couldn't believe in this days and age that people still believed in ghosts. They didn't exist. Did They?  
> From Bingo #2: Ghost Stories
> 
> Special thanks to JoJo, Huntersglenn, Penn and Thaccian for the beta-reads, thorough and very constructive! All mistakes are my very own. A very very late birthday present for Mendax.

 

“ _It is with true love as it is with ghosts; everyone talks about it, but few have seen it.”_

François de la Rochefoucauld

 

"It's going to be ugly and I do hate ugly." Buck sighed, his hand tight around the handle of his beer mug. "JD and I barely managed to talk Mr. Wellington and his boys out of riding out to Stuart James' ranch with their shotguns, and that was only 'cause Tiny told 'em he wouldn't do that to any horse right now."

 

"They were mad, though," JD picked up the tale, "and I know they aren't alone. The Whitemans and the Yancey boys are talking about going after Guy Royal and his crew, saying that it ain't his river."

 

It was news Chris had been expecting for a while now. But he shook his head, reaching for his whiskey glass. It was an effort to sip from the glass, but he tried to keep himself in check.

 

Nathan shifted in his seat, sighing. "I spent the afternoon treating people who are suffering from the heat and lack of water. I keep telling 'em they've got to stay in the shade, stay still and save their energy 'til it gets cooler, in the evening. But they're angry and scared, and they ain't listening to reason. If the weather don't break soon, we're going to have a mess."

 

"Can't make it rain," Chris said, not liking the way this was going. It hadn't rained in almost six weeks now, which in and of itself wasn't too unusual. But the heat was, higher than it usually was this early in the summer, and it was drying out the ground and the creeks and above-ground ponds already. Even the wells and covered water areas were lowering more quickly than usual. 

 

"Somebody needs to tell those Indians then," JD shook his head. His cheeks rubbed against the open collar of his shirt, his string tie resting low on his chest. "Their drumming and singing isn't helping – you can hear 'em in the middle of the night, so loud that it's like they're right outside the town!"

 

"That would be because they are," Ezra chimed in. He didn't look up from his game of solitaire, carefully turning his cards over one by one and matching the ones that he could. "The reservation affords little in the way of security to keep them in – and why would they stay there? I can't imagine that I would, not if there were any other option."

 

"Ko-je says otherwise," Josiah spoke up, tugging at the buttons on his vest to open it. "And I don't believe he would lie – don't think he can."

 

"There is quite a difference between lying and being incorrect," Ezra said easily. "It is quite possible that Ko-Je doesn't know that some of his people are slipping away. It's also quite possible that he doesn't agree that it's a problem, or that it is less of a problem than the lack of rain. After all, he does have a strong faith, does he not, in the efficacy of this ritual?"

 

"You mean, does he think it's going to work?" Josiah looked at Ezra. "I believe he does, yes."

 

"Then I suspect that he's not paying any attention to where his people are," Ezra said, not looking at Josiah, or at any of the rest of them. 

 

"Or they're ghosts, just like everyone says," JD shot back, his voice tight with excitement. "They say they're like shadows and all you can see is the white of their eyes, of their teeth, and the white feathers in their hair and clothes. That would explain it, wouldn't it? It ain't Ko-Je's people at all, just like he says."

 

Chris looked across the table at Vin who was decidedly not looking at him or at Josiah. Vin had an opinion, no doubt, but after the situation with Chanu, he didn't offer his opinion on situations involving the Indians without a lot of encouragement. 

 

Chris sighed, wishing he were very far away. Wishing he were home, tending to his horses, to his land, to the things that were simple and made sense. Wishing that the ghosts of the dead would leave the living alone. 

 

"It's not possible – ghosts don't exist." Ezra's voice was flat and hard. "I don't understand why this is even an issue. It's those Indians, sneaking off the reservation to perform their rituals. I don't see how it's an issue for us – it's an issue for the military."

 

"It's an issue because people are already on edge," Chris looked at Ezra. "The last thing we need is for them to get even more wound up about something else. You remember the last time the townsfolk got upset about the reservation – they almost burned it down. We might not be able to stop it this time."

 

Ezra didn't roll his eyes, but there was a hardness in them that surprised Chris. For all his talk, Ezra wasn't usually so abrupt or bitter. Perhaps it was the Indian question; Ezra had begrudgingly allowed that Vin was right about Chanu, but he was quick to point out that Chanu was but one Indian, not representative of every one of the "savages". 

 

"They say they ain't leaving the reservation," Vin said quietly, his voice even. "And I believe 'em. If you listen, you can hear the drums from up there, not around here."

 

"There's something around here," Nathan looked at Vin. He waved his hat back and forth, fanning his face and neck. "I heard something close several nights ago, and Gloria's boy said he saw Indians moving around on the hills. Maybe they ain't the ones from the reservation, but he saw some kind of Indians."

 

"He thinks he saw fires," Vin said shortly, though not as harshly. "He's guessing that they were Indians because he heard the drums. Ko-Je's people aren't wandering around."

 

"Didn't say they were Ko-Je's," Josiah leaned forward. "Tiny thinks he saw Indians, too, but he says he didn't they think were real."

 

Chris stiffened, opening his mouth, but he was too late. 

 

"Yes, so we're back to ghosts," Ezra's gold tooth caught the light as he smiled. "So much more believable than Indians sneaking off the reservation."

 

"Tiny said he thought he could see through them," JD blurted. "And Mr. Hafner said he saw them down by his creek – well, his creek bed, it's so dried out now. Said when he went down to get a better look, they disappeared!"

 

"If they were ever there," Ezra said. "An interesting idea, ghost Indians dancing to make it rain. What do you think, Mr. Tanner? Is that more plausible than ‒ "

 

"We don't know who it is or even what it is," Chris interrupted, finding his voice. "But we can't have the people of the town getting any more restless than they already are. They're fighting each other, fighting the ranchers, and now getting ready to turn all that anger on the reservation."

 

"So what are we supposed to do?" Buck leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. Like the others, he had his collar open and today, and he was not wearing a vest. "Light more watchfires? Light up the town – and hope nothing else catches fire, since there's no water to put it out?"

 

"Light doesn't keep ghosts away," Josiah said pensively. "Not if they want to get in."

 

"He's right," Nathan said slowly. "Depends on what they want." He turned and looked at Vin who was looking down at the table, his hat hiding his face. "What do you think? You know the Indians better than the rest of us."

 

Vin shifted, his head coming up just enough to see the lower part of his face. His eyes were still in the shadow of the brim of his hat as he said, "Ezra says there ain't no such things as ghosts." Then he pushed back and stood. "Gonna go walk around the town, see what's out there – 'cause it ain't Ko-Je's people."

 

Chris blinked, caught off guard by the answer and the action, but before he could decide what to say, Vin was gone, the batwing doors of the saloon swinging behind him. The saloon wasn't busy, not this evening; the drought was making everyone hunker down and the town was close to rationing the well water. Inez and Digger Dan had led the movement to cut back on the use of water in their own establishments and in an effort to conserve any other liquids, they had agreed to set the prices on beer and whiskey high, in hopes of deterring drunkenness and to save what they had of those supplies, too. It was hurting their businesses, but the other restaurants had followed suit, deciding that it was better to have customers after the drought was over than to have a short-term windfall now. 

 

It also served to keep more people at home at night, the streets less busy. Tensions were high enough that men were brawling in the streets in the middle of the day, without alcohol.

 

These "ghosts" weren't helping either, night time visits from dancing natives with their drums and war cries spooking everyone. Real or imagined, the townspeople were on edge and ready to take their frustration out on any real Indian they could get their hands on. 

 

"He's not really going out there alone, is he?" JD asked, drawing Chris' attention. "With those Indian ghosts walking around?"

 

"Dancing," Buck grinned. "Dancing ghosts, to make it rain. Though if I was dancing, it'd be for a better reason."

 

"Better than rain?" JD's voice was sharp. "I've heard about those rain dances – hey Josiah, haven't you seen them?"

 

Josiah shrugged, staring into his tiny glass of whiskey. He seemed to be savoring every drop of it these days, drinking more slowly than usual. "I have," he agreed. "And I hear they work. Maybe we should be thankful that these ghosts have come back to help us with the weather."

 

"There aren't any ghosts," Ezra's tone was softer. "Dancing or otherwise." It wasn't a good sign but instead it was an indication of his temper. Chris hadn't heard him like this often, but he'd heard it often enough. 

 

Maybe it was the drought, or the lack of business – which was affecting Ezra's personal finances. Ezra was feeling the pressure of losing his daily income, and worse, he was bored and frustrated. Like the others, he was finding himself short-tempered. 

 

"Chris?" JD said at the same time that Buck said, "Vin knows his way around – hell, if anyone can figure out what's going on, it will be him."

 

Chris looked at JD, who stared back at him with wide, worried eyes. And complete trust. It was a look that Chris disliked, one based in JD's unfounded belief that Chris could answer anything.

 

"If you're worried, go after him," he said, as much to relieve himself of JD's attention as anything else. 

 

JD pushed out of his chair, grabbing up his hat as if he'd been given a direct order. "I will," he said, determined. "If nothing else, I'm gonna see these dancing ghosts."

 

"Now hold on," Buck started, but JD was already walking toward the door. "Dammit, Chris," Buck grumbled as he, too, got to his feet. "If anything happens to him — "

 

"Why, Buck?" Chris cut him off. "You don't believe in ghosts, do you? And they're only dancing."

 

Buck stopped long enough to glare at Chris, opening his mouth as if he might answer. But no words came as he shook his head and stomped off, following JD through the saloon's swinging doors. 

 

"Might not be such a good idea to tease," Nathan said softly. "You can doubt as much as you want, but that don't keep 'em away, and we don't know if they really are dancing to make it rain. Could be a war dance." 

 

"Ghosts are nothing but tricks of the light played upon the superstitious." Ezra turned cards in a game of solitaire. His own shirt was, as ever, buttoned to the top, his cravat perfect, his vest perfect. The only concession he had made to the heat was that he had worn his lighter weight jacket today. "I am surprised that a man of your intelligence is so susceptible."

 

Nathan opened his mouth to answer then he stopped, frowned, looked at Josiah, then Chris, then back to Ezra. Chris looked down, amused despite himself. It wasn't often that Nathan was caught out like this, both insulted and complimented by Ezra.

 

"Lord works in mysterious ways," Josiah pushed back from the table. "Reckon if he can speak through a burning bush, he can give us glimpses into the afterlife, dancing or otherwise. Tomorrow's going to be another long day, reckon I'll head off to bed. You coming, Nathan?"

 

Nathan rose as well, nodding to Chris and glancing at Ezra, still not sure what to say. 

 

Which left Chris and Ezra alone at the table. Ezra was looking at his game of solitaire, turning cards over with the precision of long practice. Despite himself, Chris found himself watching the way Ezra's fingers deftly worked the thin pieces of pasteboard, elegantly, almost magical. He had a grace that fascinated Chris, one that had attracted him as much as the cynical attitude and the challenging eyes. 

 

"You are angry because I have questioned Vin's knowledge of the natives," Ezra said softly after a time. 

 

Chris watched the way he flipped a a few more cards, thinking about what he had said. Thinking about why he had said it. 

 

"You're a smart man, too smart to believe in ghosts," Ezra went on, flipping more cards, his fingers pale in the golden light of the saloon's lamps. "Yet you will not demand that these people – our friends as well as these townspeople we are here to protect – see reason, and that Vin might be wrong in his belief in the word of the natives. Do you fully understand what could happen if the people of this town work themselves into a state of panic – irrational, unfounded, panic? They're already half the way there now, ready to turn on each other, already turning on the ranchers. We'll see trouble soon, and the only real question is from which direction it will come, which group will give in first to their fear."

 

Panic. Mob mentality, brought about by the stress of the drought, the competition for the limited water still available, by the fear of these "ghosts", by the fear of actual Indians who might be on the move, searching for water the same way everyone else was. Or searching for a reason to go to war, to take the water that everyone else was coveting.

 

Chris let his gaze slowly drift up from the cards to watch Ezra. He looked calm, collected. Remote. Distanced from anything that could hurt him. Almost cold.

 

The memory was slow in rising, but it came, teased out not by the words or even the remoteness, but by the rhythm of those fingers, the methodical motion of his hands. By the look of concentration on Ezra's face, the deep lines at the corners of his eyes and lips. 

 

He looked old, tired, like someone else. A stranger wearing Ezra's body. 

 

Chris' stomach tightened, as much at the sight as at the memory. _They believed that she had cursed them, that she actually contacted the spirits of the dead and incited their vengeance – can you believe it? We had to hide in the woods for days until they stopped searching for her, for us. Fortunately, the storms, with their lightning, finally passed, though we were soaked to the bone – I don't believe I have ever seen my mother so bedraggled. That, alone, was almost worth the discomfort of those days in the woods. All because they were too panicked to think reasonably, too certain that she had brought about the unprecedented storms because of her communing with the spirit world._

 

The story had been told in the deep of the night, as they lay in Ezra's big bed, rain thrumming against the roof and the windows, lightning crackling outside and casting the room in a sharp, stark blue. Ezra was tense, his body brittle beneath Chris' touch, jerking at each burst of light and rumble of thunder.

 

It hadn't been the storm, though, as it wasn't now the drought. Nor the current ghosts or the spirits Maude had pretended to call then.

 

Ezra flipped another card, holding it easily, intimately. "If we are to control this situation, we cannot give in to the superstition – none of us. You know this as well as I do. Hell, they know it, despite all their babble." The last few words were slow, drawn out and heavily laced with bitterness. 

 

Chris reached out, touching Ezra's fingers as he started to turn another card. "They do know," he said softly. "They know better than to add to the fear."

 

"Do they?" Ezra asked, his voice even lower now, quieter. Beneath Chris' fingers his hand twitched. "Are they not now out hunting for the cause of their 'ghosts', looking to punish or protect those who would hurt us?" He turned his head, slowly, his green gaze drifting up to Chris'. "Do you agree with them, that the cause of this situation is something we can exorcise with enough strength of will, of sacrifice? That we can stop trouble from coming simply by standing in its way?"

 

Chris smiled, amused but also saddened. "Figure it's a matter of keeping things on a low simmer until it rains."

 

Ezra looked at him, the weight of his gaze heavy in the heat of the room. It was heavy with doubt, too, with the fear that Chris was laughing at him, with the fear that Chris would choose another truth over his.

 

Chris had seen this look before, in the eyes of people he loved, in the eyes of people he'd do anything to protect. Ezra was one of them, even though Ezra doubted it. "You ain't gotta agree," Chris murmured. "Not about what is and ain't there. Reckon none of us do, not collectively. But I do need for you to agree that they got a right to what they believe. Reckon none of us will ever know, not in this lifetime. And that's all right, not sure I want to know yet. " He looked down at his fingers, resting on Ezra's hand. Carefully, he curled them so that they clutched tightly. "Ain't gonna let nobody get hurt, not by some stupid mob. Not even by our own, though I don't think that's a problem." 

 

"Because it's Vin. " Ezra's voice was flat. "Who you trust more than anyone else."

 

Chris tightened his grip and looked back up, focusing on the fear he saw in Ezra's eyes. "Because beating our own up over something none of us can control is stupid. Because none of us knows one way or the other. Because — " He took a deep breath, the words resting on his tongue: _Because I ain't gonna lose anyone I care about again as long as I can stop it._

 

Ezra swallowed then looked down and back up, his head moving slightly. But just enough. He tugged lightly, and Chris reluctantly let go of his hand. 

 

Ezra reached down, his agile fingers gathering up his cards. "This weather is horrid," he said, his voice louder now, conversational. "I find that it exhausts me just to sit, especially with no distractions. And without the kind service of our saloon mistress – well, I think it would be wise to adjourn to more comfortable surroundings. Would you join me?" The cards vanished into their pasteboard box and then into his jacket, which was already covering the more attractive parts of his body.

 

Chris glanced to one side, out the doors of the saloon into the darkness. Vin was out there somewhere, looking for the ghosts of the Indians and their strange drums, wandering around the town. Buck and JD were behind him, loud and scared, and if there were ghosts, probably annoying them as much as JD and Buck were annoying Vin. If there were flesh and blood Indians, either from the reservation or elsewhere, they probably ran them away, too.

 

He wasn't sure he believed in ghosts, but he did believe in his friends. No matter what they were doing out there, they were protecting everyone in the town. 

 

"You got whiskey?" he asked even as he put his hat on his head and moved to stand up. 

 

"Indeed," Ezra said, "though no water."

 

Chris grinned as Ezra walked past, toward the stairs. "Just as soon have my spirits straight."

 

Ezra sighed as he put one foot on the bottom stair. Slowly, he turned to look over his shoulder at Chris. "Perhaps I was a bit too hasty in extending that invitation. You may find yourself more comfortable with the other ghost hunters outside."

 

Chris was already on his feet and walking toward the other man. "Nah," he said, slapping Ezra on the shoulder. "Last time you told me a ghost story, it was pouring down rain. Let's see if it will work again." He started up the stairs, smiling when he heard Ezra behind him. "Perhaps we'll have a little rain dance of our own."


End file.
